Dead Drop
by Kittie
Summary: This is based after the episode Dead Drop and contains spoilers for the same. Don't know if it's a sequel or missing scene or AU or what. You tell me.


_**Disclaimer:** Pet Fly owns 'em, Garett Maggart and Richard Burgi brought 'em to life. I just borrowed them and put words in their mouths.  
**Notes:** This is based after the episode "Dead Drop" and contains spoilers for the same. Don't know if it's a sequel or missing scene or AU or what. You tell me. :)_

**Untitled  
by Kittie  
(http/ had been a very long day. Joel Taggart leaned back in his seat on the passenger's side of Simon Banks' car as the Captain drove them back to the precinct, and reflected on the events of a day that could have ended very tragically.**

Just a few short hours ago, grad student Blair Sandburg, also a consultant to the Cascade Police Department, had been trapped in an elevator at the Wilkinson Towers with three other people, while a madman who called himself "Galileo" dropped the car five floors every ten minutes. If he didn't receive a five million dollar ransom, Galileo would allow the car to fall the last fifteen floors, killing everyone aboard. Joel, although he was officially the captain of the Bomb Squad, had joined in the race to stop Galileo, as he held a great respect and fondness for Blair.

After joining forces with the building's security team, Captain Banks had been able to stop the elevator's descent by ordering the building's power to be shut off, but Galileo had a backup plan in the form of a bomb planted in the elevator, innocently disguised as a briefcase. Blair had hatched a plan to cut a hole in the floor of the elevator and drop the bomb out, thus saving himself and the other three people, but since none of the members of Major Crimes had known that until several tense minutes after the explosion, it had been a harrowing experience for everyone involved.

Luckily for them all, all of the victims had escaped with only minor injuries, Galileo and his partner had been taken into custody, and the crisis had passed. Jim Ellison was just a few car lengths ahead of them, Blair seated safely in the passenger seat of his Expedition. Joel sent a thankful prayer to the heavens that the young observer had escaped from the ordeal unscathed.

However, as the four men exited their cars in the Cascade PD garage, it became evident that although Blair was not injured, he was still affected by the experience. The usually talkative student was eerily silent, the bounce absent from his steps. He didn't look at any of his companions, and merely stared quietly at the floor, hands shoved deep in his pockets. The three men exchanged concerned looks over Blair's head, but didn't comment on his behavior. They could only hope that Blair would eventually bounce back from this as he had from his earlier traumas.

As they reached the elevators that would take them to the Major Crimes offices on the seventh floor, Blair suddenly stopped, his breath quickening. "Uhmm... I think I'll take the stairs, man," he said, giving a nervous laugh and backing away slowly. "I'll meet you upstairs." He sped away, face flaming as the doors opened to let them in.

Taggart cringed, inwardly berating himself for not thinking clearly enough to suggest the stairs in the first place, and Ellison cursed under his breath as he turned to follow his friend. "I'll walk with you, Sandburg," he called after his friend, then turned back to Simon and Joel. "I should have known better than to expect him to get on an elevator not one hour after he'd almost died in one. Sorry, guys."

Joel immediately turned to follow. "Hang on, Jim," he called. "We're coming with you."

"Right," Simon agreed, his voice a little too hearty. "The exercise will do us good."

Jim shot a grateful look over his shoulder at them before hurrying into the stairwell, where Blair already had a good head start. The three men called out to him again as they stepped into the stairwell, and Blair stopped, looking back in surprise. "Jim? Guys? What...?"

"I don't think an elevator ride appeals to any of us right now, Chief," Jim assured him, smiling slightly. "We'll walk up with you."

"You don't have to--" Blair started to protest, but Simon cut him off with a raised hand and a shake of his head.

"We know we don't have to, Sandburg."

"Yeah," Joel chimed in, "We _want_ to."

Sandburg's answering grin erased any doubts Joel may have held about walking the seven flights. He smiled back and started the trek.

Joel was breathing hard by the time they reached the seventh floor. His heart was pounding out of control, and his body was covered in a cold sweat. He was trying hard not to show his distress, but Ellison kept shooting concerned looks over his shoulder. As they exited the stairwell on the seventh floor, Joel leaned back against the wall, trying to give his body a chance to relax. Sandburg turned to face the three of them.

"Thanks, guys," Blair said quietly, offering each of them a grateful smile. "You didn't have to do that, you know."

Joel, unable to speak just yet, merely nodded, while Simon clapped the observer on the back. "We know," he agreed, deliberately downplaying what they'd done. "Now come on, there's a lot of paperwork to be filled out, and we'll need your statement."

Joel simply stood there as Simon, Jim, and Blair headed into the bullpen. "I'll meet you there, guys," he called, alarmed at how much energy it took to raise his voice. "I've got to stop in the bathroom for a second."

Blair's brow furrowed. "You okay, Joel?"

The bigger man waved away his concern and gave a weak smile. "Sure, Sandburg, fine. You go give your statement, I'll in back in a second." He pushed himself off the wall and stumbled into the restroom, barely aware of Simon herding Jim and Blair into the bullpen and out of sight.

Once in the bathroom, he leaned heavily on one of the sinks, lifting a shaking hand to turn on some cold water and splash it on his face. His heart was still pounding uncomfortably, and a burning pain was beginning to spread throughout his chest. His breath was coming in short gasps, and white spots began to dance in front of his eyes. All at once, he knew exactly what was happening. He had to get to the bullpen and get help, immediately.

But as he lifted his hands from the sink and took a step toward the door, the pain blossomed, the spots expanded to fill his vision, and he knew nothing else.

Blair Sandburg, giving his statement about the ordeal in the Wilkinson Tower, trailed off and looked worriedly at the doorway of Major Crimes. "Joel's been in there for a long time," he remarked, almost to himself.

Detective Henri Brown glanced in the same direction and shrugged. "Maybe it's something he ate."

"I don't know..." Blair turned unconcerned eyes to his friend. "We all walked up here from the garage level; he wasn't looking too good by the end of the trip. I think I oughta check on him, man."

Henri shrugged. "Sure, whatever floats your boat. We can finish your statement when you get back."

"Thanks, Henri," Blair smiled, standing and jogging out into the hall. He was already out the door when he heard Henri's amused, "De nada."

He stepped into the bathroom slowly. "Joel? I thought you--Oh my God! **_JIM!_**"

Jim Ellison was in mid-sentence, trying to convince Simon Banks that he hadn't used excessive force in arresting the man he'd thought had killed his partner, when Blair's terrified voice filled the hallway. Everyone else froze in shock, but Jim was on his feet and sprinting toward the cry before the last echoes of the scream had died out.

The captain let out a muffled curse and followed, aware of several detectives leaving their desks and joining him in the sprint down the long hallway. He saw Jim burst into the men's restroom and followed, skidding to a halt as he saw Joel Taggart lying motionless on the floor, a frantic Blair Sandburg leaning over him performing a barely passable form of amateur CPR. Jim had already fallen to his knees across from Blair and was attempting to take over the chest compressions. "Looks like a heart attack, sir," Jim reported tersely.

"Shit," Simon muttered, and he heard several whispered exclamations of dismay behind him.

"Brown," he barked, quickly taking charge, "Get on the horn and call for help." Brown complied immediately, sprinting back down toward Major Crimes. "Rafe, get in here, we'll help with the first aid. The rest of you, back to your desks, we'll keep you posted."

The gathered detectives slowly and reluctantly filed away, leaving the four of them to continue the CPR. Blair was breathing hard, almost sobbing, and as a result, he wasn't able to get too much air to Joel. Simon knelt down beside him and gently pulled him away, allowing Rafe to step into his place without losing the rhythm.

Blair struggled against him, reaching back toward Joel, not quite seeming to understand that help had arrived. His eyes were wide and teary, locked on Joel's prone body, and he was muttering something over and over again. Simon had to strain to figure out what it was, but he quickly wished he hadn't. "Please, please no, my fault, oh god, don't die, please..."

"Come on, Sandburg," he crooned gently, steadily pulling Blair back. "Jim and Rafe are taking care of him, don't worry, just relax a minute..."

"No!" Blair was a lot stronger than he looked, and a particularly hard lunch nearly propelled him out of Simon's arms.

"Sandburg!" Simon took a deep breath. The kid was too upset to listen. He shot a quick, apologetic glance at Jim, and then firmly grabbed Blair by the shoulders shaking him, just once, as hard as he could. "Sandburg, shut up and listen!"

That did the trick. Blair's eyes widened but finally locked on him with sudden comprehension. "Calm down and let Jim and Rafe do their jobs, okay? It's going to be alright, you found him early, you started CPR, and you got him help. You've done everything right, now just try to calm down and let us take care of him."

"Simon, my God, it was all my fault, the stairs...!"

"We don't know that this is from climbing those stairs, and even if it is, he chose to do it, you didn't ask him to."

"But he was breathing so hard, Simon, what if--"

"We have a pulse," Jim suddenly blurted, bringing their attention back to Joel just as three paramedics piled into the room and took over. Jim stood wearily and trudge over to them, nodding his thanks to Simon before carefully removing Sandburg from his side and guiding him to the door, speaking quietly into his ear. Simon sighed to himself and scrubbed a hand over his face, sending a quick prayer up to the heavens. The day had gone from bad to worse way too quickly... He could only hope it wouldn't go to worst.

Jim Ellison sighed to himself as he heard his guide tossing and turning in his bed downstairs. Blair hadn't slept at all in the three days since Joel Taggart's heart attack and subsequent hospitalization, and as a result, he wasn't sleeping either.

Blair had taken Taggart's attack very badly, fully convinced that it was his fault. "If I hadn't been too chickenshit to take the elevator upstairs, he wouldn't be lying in that hospital bed!" Not exactly the most logical of conclusions, but then emotions were rarely compatible with logic.

The heart attack had been severe enough that the doctors hadn't been sure at first whether or no the big man would live. In fact, it had only been a few hours since the long-awaited announcement that he would make a full recovery. While both Blair and Jim had been very relieved to hear that news, it hadn't seemed to affect Blair's mood much at all. Not being family, he hadn't been allowed in to see Joel, and had to be content with lurking in the waiting room, begging for tidbits of information from passing nurses and the occasional Taggart relative. Tonight, for the first time in three days, Blair's sleeplessness was not because of the fear that Joel would not live, but because of his own guilt over the incident.

Jim knew for a fact that Joel would not blame his young friend. He had tried to explain this to Blair, but the young grad student seemed unable to believe it. Maybe tomorrow, when they were finally allowed in to see him, Joel could tell Sandburg to his face that everything was okay, and that would be the end of it.

_Right._ Jim snorted to himself and rolled over, angrily punching his pillow into submission. _And pigs'll fly._

Blair Sandburg stood nervously a few steps away from Joel Taggart's hospital room, trying to find the courage to step into that open doorway and see the man he'd almost killed. Jim was beside him, one hand resting gently on his back, offering the same silent support he'd been providing since the beginning. Blair was grateful for it, even though he wasn't sure he deserved it. He'd been called a wuss or a wimp several times growing up, and even as recently as the last few months, and he'd always accepted it as part of who he was. Now, however, his weakness had nearly cost the life of a dear friend.

"Ready, Chief?" Jim asked quietly, the hand on his back exerting a subtle pressure. "I'll bet Joel's pretty anxious to see you."

'Yeah, I'll just bet,' Blair thought darkly, but he just nodded. "Yeah. Let's go."

Joel was hooked up to an IV and a small monitor beside his bed silently kept track of his heartrate and blood pressure. The bed had been cranked up into a half-reclining position, and he lay still against the sheets, eyes closed, face turned away from the door. He looked pale, and several years older than the last time Blair had seen him. He almost lost his nerve, and he stepped backward as if to bolt, but Jim kept that hand firmly on his back, keeping him from retreating. "Joel, you awake?" Jim asked quietly.

Joel's eyes opened right away, and a smile lit up his tired face when he saw them, melting away those extra years. Despite his guilt, Blair felt better immediately.

"Blair, Jim! Hi, come on in!" He waved them over with the arm not attached to the IV. "I was wondering when you'd finally get here!"

"We put it off as long as possible," Jim joked, "but eventually we ran out of excuses."

Blair tried to find words, any words, but nothing came to mind. He just stared only barely registering the concerned glance that Joel shot to Jim.

"Maggie told me you two saved my life," Joel said quietly, eyes on Blair's. "Thank you."

"I'm sorry," Blair heard himself blurt out, the desperation audible in his tone.

Joel raised an eyebrow. "Sorry? For saving my life?"

"No!" He shook his head in frustration, gesturing at the monitors and the IV. "No, for... for this!"

"What's there to be sorry for?" Joel seemed genuinely puzzled, and Blair felt a blossom of hope start to break through the all-encompassing guilt.

"I... I put you here, Joel," he admitted, his voice small and timid. "It was all my fault!"

"How?"

"Wh- how?" He stared at the older man, searching his eyes for any recrimination or anger and finding none.

"Yes, Blair." Joel's voice was kind, a sad smile on his face. "How was it your fault?"

"I... the stairs..."

"Yes, I climbed the stairs and I probably shouldn't have. But that was my decision, Blair, not yours."

"But--"

"No 'buts.' What do you know about my health and my habits? Other than the fact that I'm in this hospital bed, do you know anything about the way my body works?"

"Well, no..."

"No. So how could you have known that climbing the stairs would be so much of a strain? You couldn't, that's how. Look, Blair. I made the decision to go up the stairs with you. You didn't ask me to, and even if you had, it _still_ wouldn't be your fault, because you couldn't have known what would happen! You had a right to be afraid or apprehensive after what happened at Wilkinson's. To be honest, I was a little nervous of that elevator myself."

"Me, too," Jim put in ruefully. "I think I have a newfound dislike for elevators."

"See?" Joel closed his eyes for a moment and rested, the longish speech having worn him out for a bit. Blair started to apologize, but Joel anticipated him and spoke, albeit a bit wearily and with his eyes still closed, before he could open his mouth. "And don't you dare apologize again, Sandburg. You didn't ask me to make any speeches, either."

"Yes, sir," he agreed humbly, causing Jim to let out a snort of laughter. He shot a dirty look over his shoulder and found himself returning Jim's pleased smile. Already, the guilt he had thought would be a permanent fixture had begun to erode. "Joel?"

"Yeah?" Joel opened his eyes and smiled at the observer as he stepped forward hesitantly.

"I... I'm really glad you're okay." Joel's arms came up and he stepped into them, hugging him as hard as he could without disturbing any of the monitors.

"Me too," Joel agreed.

**End**


End file.
